Chapter 18 #2
“What a way to go.” I wrap my legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, and the next thrust hits so deep I see white behind my eyelids and cry out, my nails scratching across the table surface.
He does it again and I scream so loud the sound bounces off the walls, and somewhere in the back of my brain a tiny voice is reminding me that I have neighbors but the rest of my brain has staged a full coup and does not care.
My dress is bunched around my waist and my bra is still on and I’m suddenly frustrated by all of it, by every scrap of fabric between his skin and mine.
“Zipper,” I pant between thrusts. “Get this thing off me.”
He reaches around and finds the tab and drags it down while he’s still buried inside me, his hips grinding forward in shallow circles while his hand works the zipper, and the multitasking is genuinely impressive.
The dress loosens around my body and I yank it over my head and toss it, then unclasp my bra and let it fall, and the cool air hits my bare chest and my nipples tighten immediately.
His eyes drop to my tits and his rhythm falters. Just half a second, but I catch it, and the rush of power that comes from making Dominic Midnight lose his focus is almost as good as the sex.
“Eyes up here,” I tell him, grinning.
“I’m admiring the full picture.” He cups my tits in both hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, and the calluses on his palms from years of wrapping his hands and hitting bags create a friction against my sensitive skin that makes me gasp.
He rolls my nipples between his fingers, tugging gently, then harder when my breath catches, and I arch into his hands because my body has completely mutinied against my brain.
He dips his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking while he drives into me, and the dual sensation tears a moan out of me that I feel in my toes. My fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer, holding his mouth against my breast.
“God, your mouth,” I pant, my head falling back. “Don’t stop doing that.”
He switches to the other side, giving it the same thorough attention, sucking and licking and grazing with his teeth until both my nipples are swollen and aching and every pull of his mouth sends a direct line of heat straight to my clit.
He’s still thrusting into me the whole time, that relentless deep pace, and the combination of his mouth on my tits and his cock hitting that spot inside me is building something enormous at the base of my spine.
“Dominic.” His name comes out of me on a moan that doesn’t sound like my voice, breathless and needy and completely undone. “Yes, right there, right there, don’t change anything.”
He releases my nipple and looks up at me with slick lips and dark eyes. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Enjoy it. It won’t happen again.” I grab his jaw and kiss him, tasting my own skin on his lips, and he thrusts deep at the same time.
He swallows the sound and gives me another just as deep, and another, each one hitting that spot with a precision that has my walls fluttering around him.
“Yes yes yes,” I gasp, my hands bracing on the table behind me, and then something creaks ominously beneath us.
A sharp, splintering sound that has nothing to do with the noises we’ve been making and everything to do with structural failure.
“Oh fuck.” He laughs, slowing but not quite stopping.
And I laugh too, breathless and disbelieving. “I think we’re actually about to break the table.”
He grins against my mouth. “What the fuck is this thing made of, cardboard?”
“It’s Ikea, I’ve had it forever. I’m a busy woman, you think I have time to go furniture shopping?” The table groans again and lists sideways and I yelp, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Okay, okay, we need to move before I have to explain this to my insurance company.”
He grabs me, hands under my ass, lifting me off the table with his cock still inside me, and starts thrusting as he carries me.
Each step drives him deeper and I’m moaning into his neck, my legs clamped around his waist, my nails raking across his back, and by the time he sets me on the kitchen island I’m half out of my mind.
The marble is freezing against my bare skin and I suck in a breath, my whole body tightening around him.
“Cold?” He’s already thrusting again, shallow and grinding.
“Fucking freezing, so don’t you dare stop.” I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine, kissing him hard, and the cold marble against my ass and his hot skin against my chest is a contrast that makes every nerve ending spark.
“You feel even tighter like this,” he grinds out, gripping the edge of the counter for leverage.
The angle from the counter is completely different. Deeper. He drives all the way in on the next stroke and hits a spot so far inside me that I cry out, my hands flying to his shoulders, my nails digging into muscle.
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe. “That angle. Stay right there.”
He grabs my ass with both hands and pulls me to the very edge, my tits pressed against his bare chest, nipples dragging against his skin with every movement, and when he starts thrusting the friction is everywhere.
His pelvis grinding against my clit on every stroke.
His chest against my swollen nipples. His cock dragging against my front wall and hitting deep.
“Yes yes yes,” I’m chanting against his shoulder, my arms locked around his neck, my hips meeting every thrust, and I can hear myself and I sound desperate and I don’t care.
He picks up the pace, driving into me faster, harder, and the wet sound of our bodies fills the kitchen along with my moans and his ragged breathing and the rhythmic thud of the counter against the wall behind it.
He buries his face in my neck and bites down on the spot below my ear, sucking hard, and my walls clench around him so tight he groans against my skin, a deep vibration that I feel everywhere.
“You’re incredible,” I say without thinking, and immediately want to shove the words back in my mouth.
His head lifts from my neck. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch it over all the moaning.”
“Not a chance. Your ego is already unmanageable.” I clench around him deliberately, squeezing his cock with my internal muscles, pulsing in a rhythm that matches his thrusts, and the sound he makes against my neck is deeply gratifying. Something between a moan and a curse, muffled against my skin.
“Fuck, Brooke, when you do that...” His hips lose their rhythm for a second before he recovers, driving in harder to compensate.
“When I do what? This?” I clench again, tighter, and his whole body shudders. “Or this?” I roll my hips in a slow circle with him buried to the hilt, grinding my clit against his pelvis.
His hand slides between us, thumb finding my clit, and he presses down and starts rubbing in tight fast circles.
His mouth finds my nipple at the same time, sucking hard while his thumb works my clit and his cock drives into me, and the triple assault is too much, it’s everything at once, and I can feel my orgasm building like a wave that’s going to flatten me.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp, my fingers in his hair, my thighs shaking around him. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, I’m so close.”
“Come on my cock,” he says against my breast, his thumb pressing firmer on my clit, driving deep and holding, grinding against that spot, and the wave crests.
My orgasm rips through my whole body and I scream loud enough that my neighbors definitely hear, my walls clamping down on his cock in violent pulses, my back arching, my legs locked around his waist. He fucks me through every wave, his thumb still circling my clit, extending it until I’m shaking and gasping and gripping his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing left in the world.
I’m still shaking when he pulls back enough to look at me, his face flushed and his breathing destroyed.
“Bedroom,” he manages. “Where’s your bedroom?”
I can’t form words. I just gesture down the hallway, a vague wave toward the door at the end, and he’s already lifting me off the counter.
“I’m not done with you,” he says.
I slide off the counter on legs that belong to someone else and he pulls out of me and the emptiness makes me grit my teeth.
I grab his hand and pull him down the hallway, stepping out of my heels mid-stride, and by the time I reach the doorway I’m wearing nothing but the gold chain around my neck and the afterglow of an orgasm still buzzing through every nerve.
The bedroom is dark, with amber streetlight through the curtains.
I turn at the foot of the bed and push him.
Both hands flat on his chest. He goes down onto the mattress and I climb over him, one knee on either side of his hips, settling my weight onto his thighs.
His cock is rigid against his stomach and I can feel the heat of it against my center as I shift above him.
I reach behind me and take his cock in my hand, position him at my entrance, and sink down slowly, inch by inch, feeling every ridge of him as my body opens around him.
I take my time, letting the fullness build, watching his face while I do.
His jaw is clenched, his hands gripping my thighs, his stomach muscles trembling with the effort of letting me set the pace.
When I’m fully seated I plant my hands on his chest and lean forward slightly. The angle presses him against my front wall and a groan spills out of me before I can catch it.
“You like being in charge,” he says, looking up at me, his voice strained.